


Shadow Children

by butterflyslinky



Series: The House of Wayne-El [2]
Category: DCU
Genre: Actually Southern Clark Kent, Alien Biology, Alternate Universe, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Discussion of Abortion, M/M, Minor Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 14:31:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13836750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyslinky/pseuds/butterflyslinky
Summary: (Sequel to Sunshine Child) A horrifying encounter with Lex Luthor throws Clark's family out of sync.





	Shadow Children

It had been one year since Clark and Bruce had decided to try dating again, and so far, it was going pretty well. Sure, Clark was still unsure of all of Bruce’s moods and secrets, but he had gotten better at picking up on the general idea of them, and had learned when it was best not to pry.

Of course, it was best not to pry into anything that didn’t involve their son, though even that was getting better. Clark could at least rely on Bruce approaching him about those things, at least enough that Clark didn’t worry. He wouldn’t call Bruce open, but he at least wasn’t completely unapproachable anymore.

And all of that was thanks to Dick.

Clark had never seen any child so sunny and open, always eager to make everyone feel better, his cheery disposition enough to melt even Batman’s heart. Clark still couldn’t believe this boy was theirs, really and truly theirs after twelve years of struggle. Of course, he was still Dick Grayson, saying that being Dick Wayne-Kent or anything like that would feel like an insult to the people who raised him, and Clark and Bruce couldn’t disagree. But he was still their son, the best son they could ever ask for. Their family was strange, and a little bit fragile, but Clark wouldn’t trade it for anything.

*

It was a weekday afternoon in winter. Clark had been working at the Planet quietly when he heard an alarm go off at LuthorCorps. That was never a good sign.

Clark was out the door before anyone could so much as blink, and in his uniform before he could even think about it. He flew to the building, listening intently. No sign Lena was in trouble yet, but that was unlikely to last long.

Clark landed on the roof and looked around. Usually, when Lex wanted to try and kill him, it was here. Clark just hoped this fight would be quick; Dick’s birthday was coming up soon and he and Bruce had a lot of planning to do.

The roof was empty. Clark frowned and moved forward cautiously. “Lex?” he called. “I know you tripped that alarm on purpose…what do you want?”

There was a flicker of movement nearby. Clark turned and was caught in the chest by a shot of Kryptonite. He fell, shaking, burning…

“Don’t worry,” he heard from somewhere above him. “That won’t kill you…yet.”

Clark faded into darkness.

*

Clark woke hours later, gasping for breath. His entire body hurt, in a way he wasn’t used to it hurting. He felt dizzy, nauseas, and he was trembling violently. He glanced around and realized he was surrounded by Kryptonite rocks, no doubt picked up from the soil in Smallville. He was chained to a table, uniform already cut off, with red light over him, preventing any of his powers from working, even without Kryptonite. He groaned, realizing he wouldn’t be able to escape this on his own and wondering why Luthor didn’t just kill him already.

“Good morning, Superman.” Luthor stepped into view, smirking unpleasantly. “So glad we caught you.”

“What do you want?” Clark gasped. He could feel himself burning with both fever and shame—no one except Bruce had ever seen him unclothed before, and Clark was more conscious than ever of just how not human he was.

“I was curious,” Luthor said. “You’re a fascinating specimen…I’ve always know that, of course, but then the child showed up…and that interested me. Something about him was…strange. Obviously your son, but no sign of a mother…and you aren’t the type just to leave the woman who had your child.” Luthor’s eyes flickered down and Clark felt himself grow warmer. “But now I think I see what happened…Batman’s known about this for a long time, then.”

“Stay away from them,” Clark choked out.

“Oh, believe me, I have no intention of hurting the Bats.” Luthor’s expression was unpleasant. “At least, not now. But you have opened a whole new world of possibilities for me…of course, the boy can’t be killed with anything less than what it would take to kill you…but between us, there is a weapon that can defeat him.” His eyes moved down again.

Clark’s eyes widened in fear. “Please,” he whispered. “Don’t…”

“Oh, don’t be so concerned,” Luthor said. “You don’t even have to do anything except stay here a while…of course, once everything’s finished, I will kill you, but I was going to do that anyway. At least this way you get…oh, perhaps another year to live.”

“I’d rather die now,” Clark said.

“You’re in no position to negotiate.” Luthor stepped over, and for the first time in his life, Clark felt small. Afraid. “Just lie back and think of England…I’ll take care of the rest.”

There was no one to hear him scream, but that didn’t stop him.

*

Bruce found him three days later, or perhaps four. Clark couldn’t really be sure. All he was ever aware of was pain, and illness, and Luthor over him. He assumed it was only once a day, but it might have been more, might have been less. Nothing was certain, except for pain punctuated with merciful periods of unconsciousness.

All Clark knew was that after one of those periods of oblivion, he awoke not to Luthor, but Batman. Clark had never been more grateful to see anyone in his life.

Bruce was less pleased.

“Jesus Christ, what did he do to you?” Bruce asked as he undid the chains on the table.

Clark could barely speak, the enormity of it all overwhelming him. “Please…” he gasped. “Jist…take me home.”

Bruce didn’t ask anything more, simply pulled off his cape and wrapped it around his partner. Clark clung to him as Bruce half-carried him out of the room, out of the building to the waiting Batmobile.

“Luthor?” Clark asked as Bruce sped off back toward Gotham.

“Escaped,” Bruce said. “Must have known I was coming…I got sloppy, I’m sorry, but I was so worried…”

Clark nodded. “Dicky okay?”

“Dicky’s fine,” Bruce said. “He’s scared, but I’ve had him running patrol in Gotham while I looked for you…I didn’t want him to see…” He looked at Clark, and even under the cowl he looked terrified. “I thought you’d be dead,” he finished.

“I wish I was,” Clark said. “You…y’could see what he did…”

Bruce took a shuddering breath. “Yes,” he said. “I could see.”

“I’m sorry…”

“No.” Bruce’s voice was suddenly angry. “It’s not…you didn’t do anything wrong. He did this to you, and when I find him…”

“Don’t.” Clark stared at Bruce, blue eyes wide. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret…I ain’t…jist give me time in the sun and I’ll be fine.”

“Clark…”

“I’m fine,” Clark repeated. “Really…I’d just…I’d rather fergit it ever happened.”

Bruce nodded and didn’t say any more.

*

Clark wished it was that easy.

Once he was back in the Batcave, it was easy to wash away the evidence, to pull on his civilian clothes and act like everything was fine. Bruce did insist on looking him over for further injury, but whatever bruises were left would be gone by the morning. Bruce looked worried, but Clark assured him he was fine, he just really wanted to sleep.

“Alone?” Bruce asked.

Clark hesitated, then shook his head. “I…I’d like y’t’stay,” he said. “Jist…jist t’assure me I’m safe.”

Bruce didn’t ask anymore as they slipped off to their bed. He was hesitant, almost afraid to touch Clark, but Clark wasn’t having that. He rolled over and curled up on Bruce’s shoulder, breathing deeply to assure himself that this was real, he was safe, Bruce would look after him.

It was only a few minutes later that there was a small knock on the door. Clark half-smiled. “Come in,” he called softly.

Dicky came hurtling into the room, not even out of uniform yet. “Papa!” he cried, leaping up on the bed.

Clark turned and hugged Dick tight. “Hey, sweetie,” he said.

Dick hugged back just as hard. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Clark glanced at Bruce, who looked back in concern. “I’m okay,” Clark said. “I…I got hurt, a bit, but…but it’ll be fine in the morning.”

Dick hugged him harder, burying his face in Clark’s shoulder. Clark held onto his son, finally feeling completely safe. Eventually, they lay down, still holding onto each other. Bruce pulled them both close and they stayed there together for what Clark hoped would be long enough.

*

They managed to get back to what passed as normal for them. Bruce and Clark didn’t talk about it—Bruce understood that Clark wanted to pretend it never happened, and he didn’t push for them to talk. For the first time, Clark was grateful that Bruce hated discussing their feelings, since it meant he could just curl up next to his partner and _be_ without having to explain himself.

He thought that would be the end of it, that he could go back to his life with Bruce and Dick without trouble. He thought that everything would be all right, that he would be able to move on like he always did.

He was wrong.

It was always hovering in the back of his mind, but Clark could just file it away with every other awful thing that had happened to him. Just another horrific part of being a superhero.

But since it was always _there_ , always haunting him, it was all too easy to recognize the signs when they started three months later. When the nausea and exhaustion and hunger and weight started building, Clark knew immediately what was happening. He’d only felt it once before, but that was enough.

He stumbled down to the Batcave, where Bruce was working. He was always working, these days—apparently he wasn’t so good when his partner was as distant as he was.

Bruce looked up, and was on his feet immediately when he saw Clark’s face. “What’s wrong?” Bruce asked. “Is it Dicky? Is someone hurt?”

“I…” Clark looked at him, tears welling up in his eyes. “Bruce…I think I’m pregnant.”

Bruce’s concern melted into horror. “Luthor?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It would have to be,” Clark said. “We haven’t…you and me…we haven’t been…”

Bruce clenched his jaw. “You sure?”

“As sure as I can be…can you…run a test?”

Bruce swallowed heavily and nodded. “Go lie down,” he said. “I’ll get Alfred.”

Clark went to the medical area of the cave, pulling off his shirt and praying he was wrong, though he knew he wasn’t.

Alfred was, as always, quick, professional, and completely discrete. It barely took a few minutes before he nodded. “I’m afraid it’s true, Master Bruce.”

Bruce nodded as Clark sat up and leaned his head in his hands. “What do we do now?” Bruce asked.

“I believe that’s up to Master Clark,” Alfred said. “I will, of course, be on hand for whatever you need.”

Clark looked at Bruce, fighting tears. “It’s…” He gestured vaguely.

“You don’t have to go through with it,” Bruce said. “You don’t have to have his baby.”

Clark stared at him. “Bruce…”

“I know, I know, but…”

Clark reached over and took his hand. “Even if I wanted t’take that option,” he said gently. “I cain’t…Alfred’s a wonderful doctor, and I trust him with my life, but…I don’t think anyone on Earth could perform that procedure safely fer me.”

“If anyone can, it’s Alfred,” Bruce said.

“As flattered as I am by your faith in my abilities,” Alfred said. “I’m afraid Master Clark is quite right. I barely understand enough of his physiology to keep him healthy as it is.”

Bruce let out a sigh that sounded rather like a growl. “Fine,” he said. “So what do we do?”

Clark took a few deep breaths, trying to keep himself calm. “I cain’t do what I did t’Dicky again,” he said. “That was…it was unfair t’all’a us, and I cain’t live with more guilt.” He looked at Bruce, blue eyes pleading. “I…I think it would be best if…if we jist…went on like it was normal. If we raised him as our own, like he’s yers…”

“Keep pretending it didn’t happen,” Bruce said. “Keep acting like it doesn’t affect us.”

Clark looked down. “What else can I do?” he asked. “Please, Bruce…if this is gonna happen…can y’try t’support us?”

Bruce took Clark’s hand. “I don’t like it,” he said bluntly. “I don’t like that he laid his filthy hands on you. I don’t like having to act like everything’s fine when it’s killing you. But…” He glanced down and placed a gentle hand on Clark’s stomach. “I promise not to take it out on this one…it isn’t its fault…and it’s not fair that it has to be born into this situation. I won’t make it harder. And if that means pretending it’s mine…I think I can do that.”

Clark nodded. “Thank you,” he said.

“So…” Bruce said. “What do we tell Dick?”

“Half the truth,” Clark said. “Jist say we’re havin’ a baby in the fall and leave it at that.” He almost smiled. “He’ll be a wonderful brother.”

“Yes,” Bruce said. “He will.”

*

Lying to Dick was never fun, or particularly easy. Dick had an emotional intuition that Clark wasn’t entirely convinced wasn’t a superpower he’d just never developed; lying to his face was damn near impossible.

But lying to Dick was still easier than vanishing for six months without explanation, and Clark wasn’t sure he could handle another pregnancy on his own. Dick would know soon anyway; best to just tell him the parts he could handle now and go from there.

Dick was, as Clark expected, quite overjoyed when he was told. “I always wanted a younger sibling,” he said, hugging Clark gentler than usual. “And I think you two are great parents…now.”

Clark forced a smile. “I hope we do okay when we have to start from the beginning,” he said.

“At least we’re all starting with the truth this time,” Bruce said, his voice slightly bitter.

Clark looked down, ashamed, and Dick frowned. “Aren’t you happy?” he asked Bruce.

Bruce’s smile was no more genuine than Clark’s. “Of course,” he said. “Just… it’s a bit unexpected.”

Dick’s brow furrowed. “All right,” he said, but Clark knew that Dick knew something was wrong. “So am I taking all the patrols in Metropolis?”

“Not all’a ‘em,” Clark said. “Y’still have school and I dunno if I want y’out there by yerself…but Wonder Woman’ll be helpin’, and maybe she’ll take y’out there sometimes.”

Dick grinned. “I’d love to learn from her!” he said, and Clark thanked every God he knew that Dick was such a happy and accommodating child.

*

The months passed far too quickly for Clark’s liking. The best he could say for his second pregnancy was that he wasn’t alone. Bruce and Dick and Alfred all did their best to care for him, even if Bruce was more emotionally distant than ever and Alfred looked at Clark with undisguised pity. Clark tried to ignore it, tried to pretend that the baby coming was Bruce’s, but it was harder and harder to ignore the truth as time went on.

The baby came in November, strong and wailing up a storm. Clark took him in his arms and looked at Bruce in exhaustion. “Well,” Clark said. “Here he is.”

Bruce stared at the baby, his face carefully neutral, and Clark knew the war going on in his head. “Bruce, please,” Clark said.

Bruce shook himself a little and reached out. He took the child and looked at him, studying the tiny form. “What did you want to call him?”

“I think I’ll call him Conner,” Clark said. “What d’you think?”

“Conner will do nicely,” Bruce said. “And I will see to it that he grows up to be a good man.”

“How could he not, with us as his parents?” Clark asked.

Bruce returned Conner to him. “I’ll let Dick in now,” he said.

It was only a minute later that Dick came dashing into the Batcave, all a-flutter. He grinned widely when he saw the baby.

“Dicky,” Clark said. “This is yer brother, Conner.”

“He’s perfect,” Dick declared. He bounced over and sat down on the bed. Clark handed the baby to him and Dick held him delicately, eyes wide with wonder.

“Y’think y’can help us take care’a him?” Clark asked.

“Of course,” Dick said. “He’s my baby brother…I’ll guard him with my life.”

Clark laughed a little. “Y’don’t need t’go that far,” he said. “Maybe some short-term babysittin’ at most.”

Dick nodded. “Hello, Conner,” he whispered. “Welcome to Earth…we’re the only two who are half and half, but I think…I think that’s a good thing.”

*

Conner was not as sweet a baby as Dick had been. Clark had no doubt that Conner was just as intelligent, but he was more demanding, and Clark was run ragged trying to care for him.

Bruce helped, of course, as best as he could, but Clark could see the resentment in Bruce’s eyes when he looked at the baby. He knew that Bruce hated what had happened, hated the baby, as much as he tried to hide it. Clark didn’t say anything about it—he didn’t want Dick to overhear and find out the awful truth about his beloved baby brother.

Fortunately, the best thing for soothing Conner was to hand him to Dick. Conner latched onto Dick very quickly, and Dick was only too happy to take care of him. It pleased Clark to no end to watch the two of them, sitting in a chair, with Dick holding Conner and cooing softly at him.

It was three months after Conner’s birth that Clark was able to approach Bruce one evening in the Batcave where Dick wouldn’t overhear them. Bruce was brooding, as usual, and barely even glanced up when Clark sat down on the desk in front of him.

“Y’ain’t happy ‘bout Conner,” Clark said bluntly.

Bruce looked at him and sighed. “I’m not happy about what Luthor did,” Bruce corrected. “I don’t mean to put it on Conner.”

“I know y’don’t,” Clark said. “But it feels like y’do anyway.” He slid directly in front of Bruce, his legs dangling on either side of Bruce’s waist. “Y’know I love you, Bruce…y’know that if it were up t’me, Conner would be yers.”

“Conner is mine,” Bruce said. “In everything but genetics. I have to accept that…it’s just difficult to forget…” Bruce closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. “You got hurt,” he finished. “You were hurt in the worst way possible, and Conner’s a constant reminder of that. I don’t want to treat him poorly, but…it’s hard for me to look at him without thinking about what Luthor did to you.”

“But he did it t’me,” Clark said. “And I can accept Conner…it ain’t his fault his father’s a monster.”

“I know,” Bruce said. “But…”

“Bruce,” Clark said, his voice low. “I love you and only you.” Clark slid off the desk straight into Bruce’s lap. “And I can show y’that.”

“You just had a baby.”

“Three months ago…I’m fine.” Clark leaned forward and kissed him gently. “Please…I wanna show you…I wanna erase what happened. I wanna feel y’against me, not him. I wanna have yer babies, and no one else’s.”

Bruce hesitated, then kissed Clark again, winding his arms around Clark’s back. Clark kissed back, and that was all the encouragement Bruce needed.

*

Spring was turning into summer. Conner was a strong and healthy child, very curious and wide-eyed. Bruce was definitely softening toward him; at any rate, Clark didn’t see quite so much resentment when Bruce had the baby. Clark was glad about that—he didn’t think he could stand it if Bruce kept seeing Conner for where he came from forever.

It probably helped that Clark and Bruce had deepened their relationship over the last three months. Clark had finally, officially moved into the master bedroom, and both of them were significantly more relaxed. Everything seemed to be going well, both children growing nicely and the household in a state of general contentment.

Which was probably why Clark was more alert early that summer when the signs started again.

He didn’t want to believe it—it sounded like too much for even his body to handle. Nevertheless, he went down to the cave, slightly pale but not overly distressed.

Bruce looked at him. “Clark?”

“I think…” Clark swallowed. “It’s started again…I think there’s another one comin’ this year.”

Bruce stared at him in amazement. “Are all Kryptonians this fertile?” he asked.

“I dunno,” Clark said. He stared at Bruce, shaking a little. “I…I dunno if two this close t’gether is good fer me.”

“We’ll take care of you,” Bruce promised. “Alfred will make sure…you’re both going to be fine.” He crossed the room and took Clark in his arms, kissing him gently. “I love you…and I’ll make sure you, and all our children, will be just fine.”

Clark nodded. “I’m…I’m gonna need extra help with Conner,” he said.

“I know,” Bruce said. “We’ll take care of him…and Dick is thirteen now, he can take on a bit of extra responsibility…heck, he might even be able to take Metropolis on his own this time.”

“No,” Clark said. “I ain’t lettin’ him go there alone…not ‘til Luthor’s been brought to justice. He hurt me enough…he ain’t gittin’ his hands on any’a my kids.”

Bruce nodded. “I’ll get the League on a schedule,” he promised, and Clark had to be content.

*

Two pregnancies in two years was definitely not ideal. The second pregnancy passed much slower than the first, more painfully. Clark was struggling more, the toll on his body harder than ever before, and while the child grew, Clark knew that this one wasn’t as strong.

Bruce worried, of course, hovering over Clark at every opportunity. More and more often, Conner was turned over to Alfred or Dick to look after, as Clark grew weaker with every passing day. Finally, early that fall, Bruce and Alfred agreed that Clark should be confined to bed, against his protests.

Dick was just as worried as Bruce. The first day after the new edict was announced, Dick crept into the room, Conner in his arms.

“Are you going to be okay, Papa?” Dick asked.

Clark forced a small smile for his sons. “Course,” he said. “It’s jist a lot t’deal with.”

Dick crept closer and handed Conner to him. Clark held his baby close, eyes closed. “I dunno if y’can git pregnant,” he said to Dick. “But if y’do, keep a few more years in between births if y’can…don’t exhaust yerself like this.”

“I’ll do my best,” Dick promised. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Dicky,” Clark said. He handed Conner back. “I jist need t’rest.”

Dick nodded and slipped out of the room.

*

Clark did not expect the third child to come until February at the earliest. But the strain on his body was apparently too much, because it was only mid-December, a few weeks after Conner’s first birthday, when the pains started, sudden and awful and _wrong._

“Bruce!” Clark screamed. “Bruce, I need you!”

Bruce and Alfred were both in the room in a second. Dick was on their heels, Conner still in his arms, but Bruce chivied him out. “We’ll call you when it’s over,” he said. “Go to the cave and stay there.”

Dick nodded, blue eyes terrified as he carried his brother down to the cave. Bruce was at Clark’s side in an instant, clutching his hand.

“It’s too early,” Clark gasped between contractions. “It was s’posed t’be another two months…Bruce…”

“You’re going to make it,” Bruce insisted. “Both of you.” He glanced at Alfred. “Do what you can.”

Alfred nodded. “You will receive the best care I can give,” he said. “Which is quite a good best.”

“I know,” Clark said. “Y’delivered Conner well enough…jist…”

“Breathe,” Alfred said. “Breathe, and do as I say.”

The third birth was quicker than the other two, but more painful than ever, Clark’s body protesting against all the punishment it had received over the last two years. And when the baby came, he was smaller than the others—no surprise, since he was two months early, but still disheartening. He heartbeat wasn’t as strong, he breathing more ragged. Clark barely caught a glimpse of the tiny figure before Alfred was rushing him down to the Batcave, where there was better medical equipment.

Bruce got Clark up, got him clean and changed the sheets himself before putting Clark back in bed. “Rest now,” Bruce said. “I’ll see to the boys.”

“The baby…”

“Alfred will look after him,” Bruce said. “You just sleep…we’ll bring him up when he’s stronger.” He kissed Clark’s forehead gently. “Should I send Dick and Conner back up?”

“No,” Clark said. “No, I should sleep…but…” He caught Bruce’s wrist. “The new one…if…whether he makes it or not…”

“Yes?”

“Call him Timothy.”

*

Clark was out of bed a week later. As soon as Alfred cleared him to be up and about, he was down in the Batcave, Timothy in his arms.

“He’s making good progress,” Alfred reported. “He’s grown nicely…not as much as I’d like, of course, but I think he’ll catch up. And he’s much healthier now…just the last week has shown remarkable improvement.”

“That’ll be the Kryptonian blood,” Clark said. “You got him under artificial sunlight, right?”

“At all times,” Alfred said. “Gotham winters don’t lend themselves to the real thing, I’m afraid.”

“It’ll do,” Clark said. “Thank you.”

Alfred nodded and left the cave. He was replaced by Bruce a minute later. “Heard you were up,” Bruce said.

“Finally,” Clark said. He smiled down at Tim and then looked back to Bruce. “He’s a real beauty.”

“He is,” Bruce agreed, smiling fondly at the baby. “I just wish he could have gotten a better start in life.”

“He’ll git better,” Clark said. “He’s already gittin’ there…just give him time.”

“I know.” Bruce sat down next to Clark. Clark handed Tim to him and Bruce held him in wonder. “You think he’ll be as clever as the other two?”

“Even more,” Clark said. “I think this one’ll be the smartest’a ‘em all.”

*

Clark was still downstairs, Tim in his arms, when Dick came downstairs, Conner taking a few wobbly steps behind him. Clark smiled. “Hello, boys,” he said.

“Hey, Papa,” Dick said. He held Conner’s hands and they went over and took Bruce’s place on the couch. “Conner wanted to see the baby.”

Clark’s brow furrowed—as far as he could tell, Conner had never said a single word in his life. “Is that so?”

Dick shifted. “Conner…he can do things with his mind,” Dick said. “And he was tugging at me to come downstairs…I don’t know how he did it or how I understood him, just that…I knew what he wanted.”

Conner looked up at Clark, blue eyes wide. Clark stared back, and then jumped as he felt tiny hand on his arm, patting him gently, even though Conner hadn’t moved.

“That’s…new,” Clark said lamely.

“I don’t know how he does it,” Dick said. “I tried, and I couldn’t.”

“I dunno, either,” Clark said. “I never developed that particular power…maybe Conner’s jist special, somehow.”

Dick nodded. “Do you think Tim will have it?”

“I dunno,” Clark said.

Conner was staring at the baby, eyes wide. Tim’s eyes suddenly opened and he stared back. After a long moment, Tim smiled and gurgled a bit.

“Well,” Dick said. “I think they like each other.”

“Yes,” Clark said. “It certainly looks that way.”

*

Tim, as it turned out, was not going to get past his rough start so easily.

He was often ill, and was still very small, even months later. Clark and Bruce fretted over him constantly; Dick and Conner had always been perfectly strong and healthy, but Tim had a wide range of issues—his respiratory system was weak, his heartbeat was very faint, and why wasn’t he growing? Clark was starting to worry that all of this would keep Tim behind for his entire life.

Clark felt terrible, not only for Tim’s weakness and illnesses, but also for his other sons. Dick, now fourteen, was looking after Conner more often than not, both Bruce and Clark too occupied hovering over Tim to give them much attention. They tried, of course, but every few weeks there was another crisis, another emergency, and they were huddled in the Batcave for days, hovering while Alfred once again did everything he could to save their baby.

And as the months wore on, Clark couldn’t help but notice a pattern in Bruce’s behavior. It probably wasn’t intentional, probably not even conscious, but Clark realized that Bruce was much quicker to respond to Tim’s needs than he was to answer Conner’s, that even when Tim was in no immediate danger Bruce spent more time with the baby than the others. Clark could sort of understand—they were all always worried about Tim—but he also caught the small frowns and flashes of anger in Bruce’s eyes when he looked at Conner.

Still, Clark tried to tell himself it was nothing, that Bruce was just stressed by the whole situation, that of course Bruce was more worried about Tim’s well-being. Tim was small and sickly and needed constant care, while Conner was strong and healthy and quite independent for his age. Bruce was simply responding to the greater need. That was all.

Bruce was a good man. Clark knew that. He knew that Bruce would take care of all their children, that Conner and Tim would both be well-looked after their entire lives. It was fine. Everything was fine.

*

As time went on, Tim did get stronger. By the end of the first year, he was back on track, and by the end of the second, both Tim and Conner were excelling in their mental and physical growth.

“I’m glad,” Bruce said to Clark one night as they lay together. “I was so worried about Tim…kept thinking we’d done something wrong…”

“The only thing we did wrong was have ‘em too close together,” Clark said. “And that was as much my fault as yers.” He leaned up and looked at Bruce. “They’re both doin’ well…we can be thankful fer that.”

Bruce hummed. Clark frowned. “What is it?”

“Just…” Bruce struggled for a minute. “It was all so confused and sudden…I wasn’t prepared for one kid this soon, let alone two.”

“I know,” Clark said. “But we’re managin’.” He hesitated. “I think…I wonder if I might be able t’take some time this summer at the Fortress…I’ll take Dicky, of course, I need his skills, but I wonder if you’d be okay with two babies on yer own.”

“I’ll have Alfred,” Bruce said. “What are you working on?”

“I’m still tryin’ to catch Luthor,” Clark said. “I had a bit of a setback…obviously…and I need some time t’gather and organize all my information.”

“I have no objection,” Bruce said. “Except that you could do it just as efficiently on the Batcomputer and save yourself a trip.”

“I’ve tried,” Clark said. “And it’s difficult t’git any work done with two babies needin’ attention. We shouldn’t take long—two weeks, tops.”

“All right,” Bruce said. “I can watch the little ones for that long.”

*

Dick was beyond thrilled to be invited to spend two weeks with Clark at the Fortress, though he did his best to hide it. Bruce and Clark merely exchanged amused smiles and carefully didn’t let on that they understood perfectly not wanting to run after two small children at all times.

Clark carefully waited until they had arrived and settled into the Fortress before he looked to his eldest. “Dick,” he said. “Have y’noticed anythin’ ‘bout…’bout how Bruce acts with Conner?”

Dick frowned slightly. “I mean…” He hesitated. “Tim needs a lot of attention,” he finished lamely.

“I know,” Clark said. “And I ain’t…I ain’t askin’ y’t’turn on Bruce or anythin’. But...I jist wanna know…”

“Bruce doesn’t seem to like Conner,” Dick said suddenly. “I mean, he takes care of him, and he doesn’t mistreat him, but…I can see it. He acts like he doesn’t want Conner…like he likes Tim more.”

Clark nodded. “I noticed it, too,” he said. “I jist wanted t’confirm it.”

Dick looked down. “What do we do?” he asked.

“I dunno,” Clark said. “I hope that us bein’ gone’ll help…if Bruce spends more time with him…”

“He’s three,” Dick said. “I don’t know what he’s supposed to do to convince Bruce to give him a chance.”

“I’m sure they’ll work it out,” Clark said. “But ‘til then, we do have work t’do…can y’organize my notes while I git updates?”

“Sure thing,” Dick said.

*

They returned two weeks later, having made some progress on the case. Clark hoped that Bruce would have made some progress as well.

But as he watched the next few days, Bruce’s attitude towards Conner didn’t seem to have improved at all. Conner and Tim scampered about together, played together like there was no difference between them, but Clark could still see the conflict in Bruce’s eyes whenever he looked at Conner. Clark looked at Dick, who shook his head. Whatever they hoped, it seemed two weeks wasn’t enough to reconcile Bruce to Conner’s presence.

But life went on, working as superheroes, living as a family. Clark hoped that even if Bruce couldn’t get past Conner’s origins, they might eventually find some comfort.

A year passed, then two. Conner and Tim were both speaking and walking now, their powers developing day by day. They were the best of friends in all things—Clark supposed it had to do with being so close in age. Conner looked after Tim with an air of protectiveness that only a sturdy five-year-old could possess. It almost made Clark laugh

Dick continued to love both Conner and Tim, in spite of being almost grown himself. He still played with them, and looked after them when Clark and Bruce were busy. Dick taught them both to use their powers, guided them through bumps and bruises, and Clark was so very, very proud of him.

It would have all been perfect if Bruce could have ever seen past it. Clark had tried to reconcile himself to Bruce’s attitude and counteract it. Every time Bruce frowned at Conner in disapproval, Clark tried to counter it with a smile. Bruce was never outright unfair or cruel, but Clark could tell that as time went by, Bruce saw less and less of Clark’s son and more and more of Luthor’s. And every time Bruce’s mood grew darker, Clark’s resentment grew.

It came to a head a few months after Conner’s sixth birthday. Bruce was in a bad mood and Conner was full of mischief and energy, and while Tim was only a few steps behind, it was Conner that caught the brunt of Bruce’s irritation. It wasn’t like the house was any stranger to broken vases or furniture—Clark vividly remembered the time Dick had brought one of the chandeliers down purely by accident—but apparently, something had to give.

“This reckless behavior has gone on too long--!”

“Bruce!”

“Don’t defend him, Clark, he knows better! Every day with him--!”

“I’m sorry,” Conner sniffled, staring up with wide eyes. “It was an accident.”

“Accidents happen because you aren’t careful,” Bruce snapped. “Now go to your room!”

Conner turned and shuffled away, trying to hide that he was crying.

“You too, Tim,” Clark said, his voice more level. “Daddy and I need to have a talk.

He waited until the children were gone before he glared at Bruce.

“Downstairs. Now.”

Bruce glared at Clark but followed him down to the cave. Clark made sure the door was shut, blocking any noise from the supersenses above, before he turned on Bruce.

“What is yer problem?!”

Bruce blinked. “What?”

“Y’try t’hide it, but I can tell—yer still resentful towards Conner.”

Bruce stared for a moment before he glowered back. “Yes,” he said bluntly. “If we’re going to do this, fine. I resent Conner. I hate what Luthor did to you, and I hate having his bastard in my house. I hate pretending that he’s mine, and I hate that he got to grow up healthy while my son suffered. I hate that I have to smile and pretend everything’s fine while knowing that I’m raising Lex Luthor’s son. I hate that Tim couldn’t get the same chance at a healthy life that Conner got simply by virtue of being born later. I hate watching you and Dick fall over yourselves trying to make me not resent him, because it’s never going to happen.” Bruce glared harder. “And I hate that you can’t understand why I might not be happy about having Luthor’s spawn grow up in my house, with my sons, like he belongs here!”

Clark stared at Bruce for a long moment, tears in his eyes, before his fist connected with Bruce’s jaw. It wasn’t a full punch, maybe half power, but it still knocked Bruce to the ground.

“Conner’s my son,” Clark said. “He’s as much mine as Dick and Tim are, and I ain’t gonna have him treated like he’s less than they are! I hate what Luthor did t’me as well, but I cain’t keep clinging t’it, and I ain’t gonna take it out on Conner. He didn’t have a choice ‘bout how he was born, and I ain’t gonna punish him fer somethin’ that happened he cain’t control.”

Bruce stood up and started to speak, but Clark kept going. “Y’talk ‘bout how Conner reminds you—well guess what? Luthor didn’t rape you, Bruce. This happened t’me. I was the one he kidnapped. I was the one who got hurt, and I gotta live with that ev’ry day. I’ve had t’accept it and move on—well, so do you. I want Tim t’be healthy as much as you do, but it ain’t Conner’s fault that he ain’t. It’s no one’s fault that Tim was born second, or premature. It ain’t anyone’s fault that Tim’s sick. But if y’care so much more about Tim, fine.” Clark turned. “I’m leavin’.”

Bruce blinked. “What?”

“I’m leavin’, Bruce. I’m takin’ Conner and we’re goin’ back t’Metropolis. Maybe if y’don’t have to look at us ev’ry day, you’ll feel better.”

“What about Tim?”

“Tim’ll be fine. You like him. And I’ll be by t’see him now and then.”

Bruce nodded. “Fine.”

Clark nodded and left the Batcave. He went upstairs and packed his bags in the blink of an eye before going to Conner’s room. He packed everything Conner would need just as quickly before he carefully lifted the sleeping child and wrapped him in his cape. He slung their bags over his shoulders and carried Conner out of the manor.

They were back in Metropolis within the hour. Clark had kept his apartment there, just in case he’d ever need it. He laid Conner down on the mattress on the floor in the corner and sat up, keeping vigil over his sleeping son and doing his best not to cry.

*

Conner woke early the next morning, as he was wont to do. Clark hadn’t slept at all, but he was still up cooking breakfast while Conner looked around sleepily.

“Papa,” he said. “Where are we?”

“We’re in Metropolis, sweetheart,” Clark said. “I’m sorry I didn’t wake you, but I was in a hurry.”

“Where’s Daddy and Tim and Dicky?”

“They’re still in Gotham,” Clark said, trying to figure out how to explain this. “We…Bruce and I agreed last night that it might be healthier fer you and me to come live here instead.”

Conner’s face scrunched up, a clear sign a tantrum was coming. “But I don’t wanna stay in Metropolis!” he whined. “I wanna be with Tim!”

“We’ll still see Tim sometimes,” Clark said. “But…”

“It’s cause Daddy didn’t want me, isn’t it?” Conner asked. “You took me away cause Daddy thinks I’m bad.”

Clark blinked. “What makes y’say that?” he asked carefully.

Conner glared. “He don’t treat me nice,” he said. “He’s nice t’Tim, but he yells at me, and frowns a lot, and don’t hug me the same. So you took me away.”

“I…” Clark didn’t want to lie to his son, but he didn’t want Conner to feel unloved, either. “Bruce has…a lot’a issues t’work out,” he said carefully. “And I know he ain’t…I know you two don’t have the best relationship.” Clark went over to Conner and knelt down. “But I need y’t’understand—none’a this is yer fault. Y’didn’t ever deserve how Bruce treated you. Y’did nothin’ wrong, and he was wrong t’act like y’did. I brought y’here because y’deserve to live somewhere where you’re loved…and I’m sorry we didn’t leave sooner.”

Conner pouted for another minute. “I miss Tim and Dick,” he declared. “But I don’t wanna be around Daddy while he’s mean.”

“I know,” Clark said. “I don’t wanna be ‘round him, either, if he’s mean t’you. So…y’think you and me can make a life here?”

Conner nodded. “Yes,” he said.

Clark hugged him close. “I promise,” he said. “Whatever else happens…whatever Bruce has t’say…I’m always gonna love you, and I’ll always care fer y’the best I can.”

Conner leaned into Clark heavily, cuddling into his chest. “I love you, too, Papa,” he said.

*

There was a knock on the door late that morning. Clark sighed—he had half-listened to the fight that had occurred earlier that morning, and he had been expecting this.

Sure enough, Dick was on the other side of the door, looking very unhappy. “What happened?” he demanded.

Clark looked at his eldest son wearily, suddenly struck by how much Dick had grown. But he was grown now, fully eighteen years old and ready to take on the world. “Mornin’, Dicky,” Clark muttered.

“Clark,” Dick said, and Clark knew he was in trouble if they were back to Dick calling him by his name. “What. Happened?”

Clark looked at Conner, who was watching with wide blue eyes. “Conner,” he said. “Would y’like t’go see Auntie Lois t’day?”

Conner’s face lit up and Clark looked to Dick. “Gimme ten minutes t’drop him off and suit up,” Clark said. “I’ll meet y’on the roof’a the Planet.”

Dick nodded and left. Clark got Conner dressed and was out the door in a moment, carrying Conner to the Daily Planet.

Lois Lane was his best friend and had been for many years. When Clark walked into the Planet with Conner on his hip, she immediately knew something was wrong.

“Domestic?” she asked.

“Like y’wouldn’t believe,” Clark said. “Long story short, Conner and I are stayin’ here…can y’watch him for a bit? I need t’talk with Dick and I’d rather not…”

“I get it,” she said. “Come on, Conner…let’s go see whose reputation we can destroy today.” She took Conner from Clark and smiled, and Clark decided that was good enough.

*

Clark got into uniform and met Dick on the roof of the Planet in the spot where they’d often whiled away the long hours of patrol waiting for something to happen. Dick was looking a bit ridiculous in the Robin costume now—Clark was starting to think it might be time for Dick to change outfits.

Dick did not look very happy when Clark sat down. He glowered for a solid minute before he spoke. “What the hell?” he asked. “I wake up this morning to find you and Conner gone and Bruce looking like he’s going to go on a murder spree, and he wouldn’t tell me why. So what happened?”

Clark sighed. “I couldn’t take the way he was treating Conner anymore,” he said. “So I took Conner and we left. Once he got used to it, Conner was fine with not being around that negativity.”

“And what about Tim?”

“Tim will be fine.”

“If Bruce took out his frustrations on Conner…”

“Conner is his frustration,” Clark said. “And it’s not his fault.”

“He’s six,” Dick said. “Of course it isn’t…so what is it? What’s the big secret about why Bruce treats one of his kids like shit?”

Clark closed his eyes, debating with himself. He hated lying, and Dick…well, Dick was an adult now. If he wanted the truth, Clark would give it to him.

“Conner’s not his son,” he said.

Dick blinked. “What?”

“He’s not Bruce’s son,” Clark repeated.

“But then…who…?”

“Luthor.” Clark swallowed heavily, not looking at Dick. “He…remember that time he kidnapped me for a few days? Well…Conner’s the result.” He dared open his eyes.

Dick was staring at him, his face a mask of undisguised horror. “He…?”

“Yes…he intended to keep me longer…raise Conner to be a weapon…Bruce found me before I even knew Conner was coming, but…it was too late and here we are.”

Dick stared out across the city for several minutes. Clark waited, heart pounding in his chest.

“So Bruce is punishing Conner for what Luthor did,” Dick said.

Clark sighed. “I…yes,” he said. “He’s…he didn’t like me going through with the pregnancy, even though I didn’t really have a choice…and he’s angry that Conner was born strong and Tim wasn’t.”

“Tim is his?”

“Yes…that didn’t help.” Clark looked Dick straight in the eyes. “I’m not saying this to turn you against Bruce or force you to take sides. I know why he’s upset…I just figured it was best to take Conner out of that environment before it got worse. Conner’s already started to pick up on it…he realized that we left because of how Bruce was treating him.”

Dick nodded. “I don’t want to be caught between you,” he said. “And I’m an adult…I’ve outgrown this costume…outgrown being a sidekick.”

Clark nodded back. “So what will you do?”

“I’ve been flying over Bludhaven,” Dick said. “They could use a hero there…and…” He hesitated. “Remember the stories of Nightwing and Flamebird?”

“Of course.”

“I think…maybe I’m not a reborn god or anything, but…I am one of four Kryptonians on Earth.” Dick took a deep breath. “I think it’s time for me to be the Nightwing.”

Clark smiled. “I think Earth could use it.” His smile faded. “I just…I will worry about Bruce and Tim.”

“Bruce made his bed,” Dick said. “It’s not our job to babysit him. If he pushed you away, it’s his own fault…and I can make my own choices.”

“I know,” Clark said. “But…losing all of us at once…”

“This was his doing,” Dick insisted. “I won’t put up with it any more than you will.”

Clark nodded. “Call if you need anything,” he said. “Anything at all.”

“I will,” Dick said. “And if you need help…”

“We’ll be fine,” Clark said. “Thank you.” He pulled Dick into a tight hug. “I don’t say it enough…but I’m so proud of you, Dicky.”

Dick hugged back. “Thank you, Papa.” He hesitated. “Does Conner…know?”

Clark closed his eyes. “No,” he said. “And I don’t want him to ever find out.”

Dick sighed in exasperation. “Haven’t you gotten tired of lying to your kids yet?” he asked, though there was no anger in his voice.

“Would you want to grow up knowing…that’s where you came from?” Clark asked.

“No, I suppose not,” Dick said. “But…you can’t hide it from him forever…he should know.”

Clark nodded slowly. “When he’s eighteen,” he decided. “When he’s an adult…then I’ll tell him. And hope he doesn’t hate me for it.”

*

Clark tried not to feel guilty about it.

He did still listen in on Bruce and Tim sometimes; he couldn’t help but worry about them, even though his anger at Bruce still hadn’t faded. How could it, when Conner was so good, if a little rambunctious?

He was prepared for there to be a bit of a custody debate about Tim, but Bruce very quickly agreed to allow Clark to have Tim on weekends. Clark knew it wasn’t fair for Conner and Tim to be apart so often, but they were both in school now, in the same grade since Tim had tested so high, so they were really only separated on the week nights. Clark and Bruce only needed to be civil to each other on Sunday nights when Clark took Tim back to the manor.

Dick would often stop by on weekends as well, and Clark was happy he got to have time with all his sons, watching them fly and laugh and learn together. He just wished that they could have done it without their family being so broken.

Still, it was the best they could do right then, and Clark could accept it. He would accept it, and build the best possible life he could for him and Conner.

As to Bruce, well…Clark did his best to shut out whatever Batman was doing at any given time, instead choosing to focus half an ear on Tim at the manor and ignore the rest of Gotham. He figured that would work.

It worked for almost a year.

Dick did not look happy when he came in the window late one night in the fall. Clark heard him, of course—his instincts as Superman had only been sharpened by the last seven years of being a father. He gently uncurled himself from where he had been holding Conner, soothing the boy back to sleep after a nightmare, and stood up to greet his eldest.

“What is it?” he whispered, guiding Dick to the kitchen counter.

Dick jumped up to sit on it, his feet barely off the floor. “Have you been listening to Gotham?”

Gotham meant Bruce. “I ain’t his babysitter, and neither’re you,” Clark reminded him as he made coffee as quietly as he could, stealing glances every few seconds to make sure Conner hadn’t woken up.

“I know,” Dick said. “But I was listening there to follow a lead and heard him…he just took in a new ward.”

Clark looked up, surprised. “A new ward?”

“His name is Jason Todd,” Dick said. “He was trying to steal the tires from the Batmobile.”

“And Bruce jist…adopted him?”

“Not…exactly.” Dick looked uncomfortable. “He said that Jason’s going to be Robin now.”

Clark froze. He’d never been crazy about the idea of Robin, and he’d only allowed Dick to continue in the role for eight years because he knew Dick couldn’t be hurt by normal people and weapons. But now…

“Is Jason…special?” Clark asked carefully.

“Not as far as I could tell,” Dick said. “I did a quick fly-over…from what I could see and hear, he’s just…human.”

Clark sighed. “Y’know I cain’t talk Bruce outta this.”

“No,” Dick said. “But…I thought you should know. So when I go to tell him no, you can back me up.”

“Does Tim know yet?”

“They were introduced…and it’s not that I don’t want Bruce to adopt another kid, just…”

“Yeah,” Clark said, glancing at Conner, thankfully still asleep. “I’m sure that Tim’ll like havin’ a big brother ‘round again…I jist hope Jason’s as good t’him as you are.” He got the coffee and poured it out. “Y’okay with this? With Jason havin’ yer name and costume?”

Dick shrugged as he sipped at his coffee. “I mean…it would have been nice if Bruce had asked me,” he said. “And I don’t think a normal fourteen-year-old kid should be part of this world…don’t say it.”

“Say what?”

“That we’re normal and that I was younger when I started.”

“We ain’t normal fer this world, and yer invulnerable. I’ve only been afraid fer yer safety the one time, and that was…” 

“Not your fault…and I wasn’t hurt too much, just shaken.”

“I know…but Jason’s only human. Untrained, unpowered, jist…”

“Just some street punk Bruce felt sorry for,” Dick finished. “And the only way he knows how to deal with anyone over the age of ten is to turn them into a superhero.”

Clark snorted. “He’d prob’ly already have Tim in a uniform if he wasn’t scared he’d stop breathing.”

“Yeah,” Dick said.

They were quiet for a long moment before Dick sighed. “I should get back to work,” he said. “My leads just got moving again.”

Clark hugged him. “It’ll be okay,” he said. “I promise…everythin’ll be okay…y’talk t’Bruce and…and jist keep me in the loop, okay?”

“Okay,” Dick said, and he was gone again.

*

Clark kept slightly more than half an ear on Gotham over the next few days. He listened at the manor, trying to get an idea of who Jason Todd was, what sort of Robin he would be for Batman…what sort of brother he would be to Tim and Dick, and maybe even Conner.

What he heard was not promising.

It wasn’t that Jason was cruel to Tim; in fact, when Jason did talk to him, he was as kind as any normal teenager would be. The thing was, Jason didn’t seem to interact with anyone much. Even with Bruce—especially with Bruce—Jason said as few words as possible unless he was arguing, which he did a lot of.

Dick, who was spending a lot more nights sitting on Clark’s kitchen counter and ranting, also noticed. “Was I ever that bratty at fourteen?” he asked.

“When y’were fourteen, I handed you a baby and told y’t’look after him,” Clark said drily. “We didn’t really give y’any room t’be a brat.”

Dick sighed. “If Bruce wanted to replace me, he could have at least run a background check,” he grumbled.

“He ain’t replacin’ you.” The words felt hollow in his mouth. “He’s jist…lonely, I guess.”

Dick only rolled his eyes.

*

Tim had never hugged Clark so hard as he did when Clark picked him up from school that Friday. Clark was briefly surprised, but picked Tim up and balanced him on his hip anyway. “Hey, sweetie,” he said. “Everythin’ okay?”

Tim clung to his neck as Conner trotted up to them and took Clark’s opposite hand.

“Jason’s mean to me,” Tim whined as Clark carried him over to the car. “He don’t wanna play with me and he don’t talk to me and he’s always just sitting down in the cave with Daddy and now Daddy don’t pay me any attention, either!”

“Is Daddy out with Jason ev’ry night?” Clark asked.

Tim wriggled a bit. “No,” he said. “Sometimes Jason stays home and Daddy’s gone and no one knows where he goes and he comes back and he’s sad but he don’t tell me what’s wrong!”

Clark sighed and got Tim and Conner into the car. “Tim, y’know that Daddy’s work is very demandin’,” he said carefully.

Tim pouted. “But he don’t even spend time with me when he’s home!” he whined. “And Jason’s no fun.”

“We could beat ‘em up!” Conner said. “We’re strong than them…Papa could…”

“No one’s beatin’ anyone up,” Clark said patiently as he started the car. “That ain’t how we solve our problems.”

“It’s how Daddy solves his problems,” Conner said.

“Yes, well, yer daddy has enough psychological issues t’make any therapist cry,” Clark said.

“You also beat bad guys up,” Tim pointed out.

“That’s diff’rent,” Clark mumbled.

“Why?” Conner and Tim asked together.

Clark sighed. “The bad guys I fight pose a direct threat t’the physical safety’a an entire city,” he explained. “And while Bruce and Jason might hurt our feelin’s, we solve that with words, not fists.”

Tim and Conner didn’t look very happy with that. “I don’t like it,” Tim said. “I wanna go live with you…I don’t understand why I gotta stay with Daddy and Jason.”

“Yeah!” Conner said. “Why can’t Tim come live with us?”

Clark was quiet for a long moment, trying to decide how best to explain all this to two second-graders. “Bruce and I tried t’make our separation as…painless as possible,” Clark said. “I know that it’s been very difficult fer both’a you, but we did try t’minimize that. And we didn’t wanna go to court and let someone else decide how our family would work, so we made an agreement, and we agreed that Tim would stay with Bruce.”

“But why?” Tim persisted.

“Because havin’ all’a his kids leave at once would have made Bruce very sad and lonely,” Clark said. “I know that he ain’t very good at showin’ it sometimes, but he does love you. And he worries ‘bout you a lot. Havin’ you stay there with him seemed like the best decision at the time.”

Tim still didn’t look happy, though he seemed less angry. “I don’t want Daddy to be sad,” he said. “But he’s got Jason now…he won’t be lonely with Jason there.”

“I’ll discuss it with him when I take y’back,” Clark said, though he privately knew what the answer would be. “Meanwhile, what would y’two like fer dinner tonight?”

*

As expected, Bruce didn’t budge on the agreement. Well, more accurately, the moment Tim was upstairs and Clark opened his mouth, Bruce gave him the Bat-glare and Clark knew it would be useless.

Still, he needed to press on. “Tim’s feelin’ a bit neglected,” Clark said carefully. “I think havin’ a new kid in the house without warnin’s makin’ him feel like he’s less important t’you.”

“Are you here to tell me that having Jason here is a bad idea?” Bruce asked. “Because Dick has already relayed more Kent disappointment than I can deal with.”

“I really don’t care if y’have another kid here,” Clark said. “I don’t think havin’ a normal fourteen-year-old fight crime’s a good idea, but that ain’t my business.”

“Nothing in this house is your business,” Bruce snapped. “You made that very clear when you left.”

“When Tim starts gittin’ hurt, it becomes my business,” Clark snapped back. “Jason or no Jason, y’need t’spend more time with yer son. Make it clear t’him that he’s important t’you.”

“I believe I do the best I can at that,” Bruce said.

“Then do better,” Clark said. “He and Conner were both askin’ why Tim don’t stay with us…I tried t’explain it, but y’need t’show him.”

“Don’t you even think…”

“I wasn’t,” Clark said. His expression softened a bit. “I don’t wanna take all the kids away from you,” he said. “But I don’t want any’a ‘em gittin’ hurt. Tim needs a lot’a attention, and if y’cain’t give it t’him…”

Bruce sighed. “Understood,” he said. “I will ensure that I can spend more time with him.”

Clark understood the dismissal without words and turned to leave the manor.

He was in the entry hall when he spotted a teenage boy, dark-hair, angry eyes, seemingly already coiled for a fight. Clark hesitated. “Y’must be Jason.”

“And you’re Clark.” Jason was studying him carefully, the spark of anger still simmering underneath his curiosity. “Bruce said you’re Tim and Dick’s…other parent.”

“I am,” Clark said. “It’s…complicated.”

 Jason nodded, and seemed to hesitate. “I…I should probably tell you…” he said, and then stopped.

“Is somethin’ wrong?” Clark asked.

Jason took a deep breath. “I know I need to say something to someone and you’re probably the only person who might give a shit,” he said in a rush.

“Language,” Clark said on reflex.

Jason rolled his eyes and ignored him. “Bruce goes out a lot, without me, and he comes back and he’s…”

“Sad?” Clark supplied.

“Not…sad, exactly,” Jason said. “But, um…I saw it with Catwoman the other night and Talia al-Ghul the night before that…” Jason took a breath and looked Clark in the eye. “Bruce isn’t over you and he’s fucking his way through his entire rogues gallery on the rebound.”

Clark blinked. Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it. “Are y’sure?”

Jason gave him a hard look. “I may be young, but I know how the world works,” he said.

Clark sighed. “I…I won’t pretend I ain’t concerned,” he said. “But Bruce and I’ve been separated fer a year…what he’s doin’ and who he’s doin’ it with ain’t any’a my business, and I know he wouldn’t want me t’git involved.” He looked at Jason. So young. So angry. So mistreated by the entire world. “Do y’feel unsafe with him?”

Jason shook his head. “I’ve been unsafe,” he said. “And he’s not…I have a place to live and food on the table. If the price is beating up a few bad guys and pretending I don’t notice a few things, I can do that. I just…I thought if anyone could help…Superman could.”

“Unfortunately, the psyche’a Brue Wayne is beyond even my powers,” Clark said gently. He studied Jason for another minute. “Yer a good kid,” he said. “I can tell y’care ‘bout him.”

Jason nodded. “I do…him and Tim, though…I don’t really know what to do with a little kid following me.”

“He likes books,” Clark said. “And pretendin’ to be a superhero…he could use another big brother in his life.” He reached out as if to grasp Jason’s shoulder but thought better of it. “I ain’t gonna ask y’t’take care’a ‘em,” he said. “That ain’t fair t’you, and Bruce needs t’git his act together without makin’ other people clean up after him. But…be kind t’em…and be patient with Bruce.”

“I’ll try,” Jason said. “Thank you.”

Clark nodded and left the house.

*

Clark did his best to put the conversation out of his mind, but it came back in sharp focus a few days later when Dick came in through the window while Conner was at school, the collar of his Nightwing costume slipping just enough for Clark to spot a slight bruise.

“How’d that happen?” Clark asked, trying to sound casual.

Dick pressed his hand to the spot, looking embarrassed. “Um…apparently I’m not quite as, uh…steel as you are,” he mumbled.

Clark closed his eyes and counted to ten. “Who?”

“Barbara,” Dick mumbled. “I mean…she’s allowed to know, right? She’s Batgirl and…”

“She’s a fine young lady,” Clark said. “And I’m glad y’found someone to confide in.” He gave Dick a hard look. “Yer bein’ safe, right? Yer both too young fer kids…trust me, I know.”

Dick squirmed slightly. “We don’t even know how we…work,” he said. “And I’m half-human…logically, I don’t think I could have kids either way.”

“But we don’t know that,” Clark said. “Dick…I know yer an adult, but…I want yer life t’be easier than mine’s been.”

“I know,” Dick said. “We’re being careful.”

Clark nodded. “Does Bruce know?”

“I think he suspects,” Dick said. “But he hasn’t said anything.”

They were quiet for a moment. “I met Jason,” Clark said.

“Bruce let you see him?”

“More like we ran into each other.” Clark was suddenly fairly uncomfortable. “Jason, um…told me Bruce’s still on the rebound.”

Dick shifted a bit. “I had heard,” he said. “But…I didn’t think you’d want to know.”

“I dunno what I wanna know,” Clark admitted. “I mean…it ain’t my business what he’s up to unless it affects Tim.”

“But…?”

“It does bother me, a little…and I do feel a bit guilty over the way I left him.”

“You did what was best for Conner…you shouldn’t feel guilty over that.”

“Yeah, but…I wonder if doin’ what was best fer Conner was best fer anyone else.”

Dick shrugged. “I don’t think you had a good option,” he said. “If you stayed, it only would have gotten worse.”

“I know,” Clark said. “That don’t make any’a this feel better right now.”

Dick hugged him. “You’re doing great with Conner,” Dick said. “And Bruce…Bruce needs to fix himself. I know you’re Superman…but you’re always telling me we can’t save everyone.” He pulled back a bit. “Maybe Bruce isn’t someone you can save.”

“Trust me, Dicky,” Clark said. “I gave up on savin’ Bruce Wayne a long time ago.

*

Somehow, life went on. It was…not perfect, but comfortable. Clark did his best to take care of Conner, and Tim when he was around. He sat up on the kitchen counter for long nights with Dick, and spoke to Bruce as little as possible.

He saw Jason now and then, worked with him a few times. He was a decent enough Robin, the slight edge of anger giving him enough strength to survive their world.

But even if he wasn’t, Clark grew to be endeared to Jason because of how Tim started to speak of him. Jason seemed to have taken Clark’s advice and was spending more time with Tim, who was starting to see Jason as being as much of a brother as Dick and Conner.

“He’s so cool!” Tim said a year after Bruce had taken Jason in. “He gave me a new book of science fiction and we’re reading it together!”

Conner nodded along, scuffing his shoes on the sidewalk. Clark knew what it was, knew he couldn’t fix this.

Still, he put on a smile. “That was real nice’a him,” he said. “Y’did thank him, right?”

“Of course I did,” Tim said. “And Jason’s been training me to fight without powers…he thinks I need to learn it because I’m littler than the others…he got so freaked when he saw my superstrength!”

It was a pattern that they fell into. Clark did his best to steer the conversation away from Jason sometimes, but Tim was clearly in awe of his foster brother.

Conner was less impressed.

“All Tim talks about is Jason!” Conner whined one Sunday evening after Tim had returned to the manor. “It ain’t fair…Dicky don’t live with us!” Conner looked like he might go into full tantrum mode. “It ain’t fair I gotta be all by myself.”

Clark pulled Conner into a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know Tim and Jason’re gittin’ close, but…that don’t mean Tim don’t love you, too.”

“But Tim’s my brother!” Conner said. “He should love me more!”

“That ain’t how it works,” Clark said. “Tim’s heart’s big enough t’love a lotta people equally. Jason’s a real important person t’him…d’y’understand that?”

Conner sniffled a bit. “I guess,” he said. “But it still hurts when Tim’s always talking about Jason.”

“I know,” Clark said. “Jist…be patient with him. There might be a time when you’ve got a new friend who ain’t friends with Tim…and that’s okay.”

Conner nodded. “Okay.”

Clark very carefully didn’t comment when Dick showed up an hour later, declaring he was kidnapping Conner for the evening. He only smiled when they returned later that night, Conner carrying an empty lantern and looking much more relaxed.

“Good night?” he asked.

“We flew with the fireflies,” Conner said. “And they wanted to dance with us.”

Clark scooped Conner up and held him. “Thank you,” he mouthed at Dick.

Dick grinned and ruffled Conner’s hair. “Good night, baby brother,” he said.

*

As time went on, it got better. Tim talked about Jason slightly less, but it was still there. But every time Conner was sad, or felt neglected or left out, Dick was always there, helping to pick up the pieces when Clark couldn’t. Clark had never been more grateful for his eldest as he was over the next year.

Conner got better, got used to the idea that Tim would have other people in his life. It didn’t make any difference, not really—Conner would always protect Tim, no matter what came between them.

And in between, there was still Bruce. Their brief meetings were still civil, but the frost seemed to be clearly. There were moments, during super fights, on Sunday evenings, when Clark almost missed Bruce. But then he’d go back to Conner and decide no, he couldn’t go back, couldn’t give into those feelings again.

Dick noticed, of course, and brought it up in the most roundabout way he could.

“Why don’t you try dating again?” Dick asked during one of his afternoon vigils on the kitchen counter.

Clark snorted. “Besides the obvious?” he asked.

Dick gave him a hard look. “Come on, Papa…it’s been two years since you and Dad split…he hasn’t held back, so why should you?”

“Let’s see,” Clark said. “I ain’t a billionaire, fer starters…I’m a low-paid reporter livin’ in a shoebox apartment with one kid full time and another on weekends, and oh yeah, I’m Superman so I constantly have t’jist drop ev’rythin’ and go save the world, plus I ain’t human so I’d have t’explain all the…biology t’someone else, includin’ the fact that not only do I have three kids, I actually gave birth t’all’a ‘em and I don’t actually fit Earth’s gender binary.”

Dick sighed. “I know,” he said. “But…you deserve to be happy, too.”

“I am happy,” Clark assured him. “I got my boys, I got a job I love, I git t’help people…what more could I need?”

“I just…I don’t want you to be lonely.”

“I ain’t lonely,” Clark said. “Don’t y’ever worry ‘bout that.”

Dick looked down. “You’re still in love with him.”

“I’m always gonna be in love with him,” Clark said. “But bein’ in love with him don’t mean I can go back…y’know that.”

“I do,” Dick admitted.

*

Clark heard the news, probably before anyone else did. He could only listen in horror, trying to keep going, trying not to let it stop him.

He still returned home in a daze. Dick had been watching Tim and Conner, all three of them safe in the anonymous and run-down Metropolis apartment. Clark knew from their faces they had also been listening.

“Papa…” Dick said. “Jason…”

“I know.” Clark swallowed. “I…I should…”

Before he could finish articulating the thought, there was a knock on the door. Clark turned and opened it.

He’d never seen Bruce look so lost or broken as he did then. Bruce didn’t look at the children, didn’t even come in through the door. The moment he saw Clark, he fell to his knees, broken, desperate sobs falling from his lips, tears falling too fast for Clark to even see them. Bruce reached out, pleading, and Clark…well, he’d never been able to say no to Bruce. Not at times like this.

Clark knelt down and pulled Bruce into his arms. Bruce clutched at the back of Clark’s cape, sobbing into his chest, and Clark couldn’t do anything except hold him, couldn’t offer any words that would make any of this better.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce sobbed. “I’m so sorry for everything…I didn’t…Clark, I never wanted to…”

“Shh.” Clark ran a hand through Bruce’s hair. “It’s…I’m sorry, too, I shouldn’t’ve…”

Clark was aware of the boys getting up behind them, then of Dick, falling down beside them to hug them both. A moment later, Tim was on Bruce’s other side, burrowing up between his parents.

Conner crept forward, looking a bit uncertain. Bruce look up and stared at Conner, the tears still falling. “Conner,” Bruce said. “I…please forgive me…I never meant to hurt you…I couldn’t stand it if…”

Conner stared for a moment before he took a deep breath. “I don’t like how it was,” he said bluntly. “I don’t like how you treated me then.”

Bruce looked down. “I know…I’m so sorry.”

Conner looked at Clark for a long moment. “I want to go home now,” Conner said. “I want to go home to Dad and Tim…I want us all to be a family again. If…if that’s okay.”

Clark nodded. “Of course it’s okay,” he said. “I think…we all need t’go home now.”

“Well…not all,” Dick said. “I can’t just leave Bludhaven.” He smiled at his brothers, who both pouted at him. “But I’ll visit a lot…as often as I can.”

“Well,” Clark said. “I s’pose…”

“Tomorrow?” Bruce said. “I just…I need to be away from the manor for a bit…I can’t…”

“Okay,” Clark said. “Y’can stay here…it might be a bit cramped and I’ve only got the one mattress, but…”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” Bruce said.

*

Clark didn’t sleep that night, and he was fairly certain Bruce didn’t either, but he didn’t say anything. They both just stayed on the mattress in the corner, their boys between them, all crying and holding each other.

They were all quiet the next morning, a quiet exhaustion hovering over them all. Clark put together a breakfast that no one wanted to eat while Bruce and Dick packed up. By noon, they were all headed back to Gotham, to the manor house that had somehow become even darker and more oppressive than the last time Clark had been there.

The boys settled back in quickly; Conner and Tim could find a place anywhere as long as they were together. Clark made sure they were comfortably back in their rooms before he went to Bruce.

“We still need t’talk,” he said quietly. “Alone.”

“I know,” Bruce said.

“It don’t have t’be now,” Clark said.

“Yes it does,” Bruce said. “If we put it off, we’ll never resolve it.”

He led Clark back down to the Batcave, which was in more of a state of disarray than usual. Clark tried not to comment on how dark it felt, how…empty.

“So,” Clark said.

“I know,” Bruce said. “What I did…those things I said…” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve regretted it ever since…Conner…he never deserved that.”

“No,” Clark said. “Conner didn’t deserve that. It ain’t…none’a it’s his fault.”

“I know,” Bruce said. “I wanted to go after you…every time you came back here to drop Tim off, I was always on the verge of asking you to come home…but…you know I’m a stubborn, prideful man. You know that begging you to come back…”

“I know…and if you’d asked, I wouldn’t’ve said yes. I’m as stubborn as you are, Bruce…we both knew that comin’ into this.”

“Yeah…but now…losing Jason…I…what if it had been you, or one of them? What if I lost you before I could apologize? And…I know it’s selfish, but…I can’t be alone here, not even for a few days at a time. I’ve done that, and…”

“I know.” Clark swallowed heavily. “If y’hadn’t come knocking, I…I prob’ly would’ve come back on my own. I couldn’t leave y’alone…not now.”

Bruce almost smiled. “Thank you,” he said.

They were quiet for a moment. “So what now?” Bruce asked. “I mean…Conner accepted me back, so…will you?”

Clark took a deep breath. “I…I want to,” he admitted. “I’ve missed you, the last few years. And…if y’mean it, and yer willin’ to accept Conner…”

“I do,” Bruce said. “I…I can’t promise that I’ll ever be able to forget it, but…I can promise to do better.”

“I believe you,” Clark said. “And if y’want me to take y’back…I will.”

Bruce hesitated. “Can I kiss you now?” he asked.

“Yes,” Clark whispered.

They’d had several first kisses over the years. The first first kiss, sure, but also their first kiss as parents, their first kiss as a family. And this one…this was their first kiss of mercy, and Clark thought it might be the best first kiss of all.


End file.
